What a wild, wild Wasteland, huh?
by Mathis Gray
Summary: The Wasteland pushes most people to the point of insanity, some can make it back from the edge. Most don't.


How in the Hell did I end up _lost_. I don't get lost, it just doesn't happen. I've wounder all up and down the East Coast and now, in the middle of nowhere, a fucking dust storm throws me off. Whatever, just keep going west. I hope this _is_ west. The storm had ended, yes, but my eyes still lingered with the sting of dust. Covered from boot to hood in thick, sandy shit. Thankfully, I had time to cover up my rifle so it didn't jam the next time I was well… in a jam, ha.

Well, back to where I am at the moment; sitting upon a hill overlooking a vast expanse of sand and corpses of the old war. Collapse buildings littered the horizon and the shell of a crashed plane dug itself into the earth like is was trying to hide from the Sun. Broken and bent telephone poles outlined a cracked road that lead into the dissents as wind rushed across. I rose myself and tried to clean my clothes again. It wasn't much really, just an old tee with " _Nuka-Cola"_ stitched into it, a pair of ripped and tore jeans and a light, gray hooded coat. Rifle over shoulder I made my way down the slant to level ground, easing slightly on the boots that covered my feet. I hated being in open ground, heading out across a patch of open land _this_ large was a no go. I'll have to wait till night.

After waiting for the night to come I was about to make my way when I heard movement from behind. Spinning I came face to face with the tip of a sword. The hand that held it was slim but didn't shack like other would-be raiders, it was ready to kill. My assailant was still shaded in darkness, so I could make out a face.

"Uhm hello there friend, how are you on this fine night?" I said as cautiously as if I was sipping water from a pond. The responses I received made me raises a brow.

"I am _not_ your "friend", profligate," the voice was female, no doubt, but harsh. The blade jumped forward, along with its wielder, making me retreat slightly.

Her sword drew the slightest bit of blood from the neck.

She was a skinny girl, maybe twenty, thin black hair and obviously under feed. Her eyes bore holes as she glared at me, again I tested the water; "do you happen to know where we are?"

"We are in the territory of the great Caesar, and _you_ are trespassing," she barked.

"Well, in that case I'll see myself out…" I said as I moved myself around, her gaze and blade followed me.

"I don't think so" the fury-filled woman grunted as she flew at me. She smacked the side of my head with the blunt end of her sword. I fell, of course, but used the lower angle to propel myself up. Again, she struck me, in the back this time. I slammed her to the ground, holding her hands far apart. She flailed and bite and growled like a dog, thankfully I was able to knock the blade from her hand.

"Will you stop it! I mean no harm," I grunted between blood filling my mouth.

"YOU INSULT THE MIGHTY CAESAR BY JUST _BEING_ HERE!" She spat back.

"Then I'll go!"

"No! He demands blood!"

"One Hell of a guy this "Caesar" must be!" This pissed her off, she began to causes and spit.

"All righty, that's enough of that," quickly I reached back and grabbed the pipe I held at my waist. With one smack to the head, she was out. I fell back, exhausted.

Panting, I decided to wait till the morning to cross the vastness. I pushed myself up and walked over to an over turned Corvega (pre-war car) and rested my head on the cool and rusted metal. I would have tied her up, by my head was stilling ringing so I just propped my rifle up and sighed.

* * *

Shit. Shit. Shit. I had fallen asleep. Hazily I looked around. Good, she was still out cold. The Sun was high in the sky and we both baked in its rays, I stood and walked over. Now, I'm not a very strong falla', happens from years of walking and no food, but she was _light._ I haled her limp body to the shade of the hill and laid her down. This is were I should have just left, she had attacked _me_ after all so if I left her there it wouldn't be on my conscious. But something stopped me. When I saw her last night, her face was filled with anger and hate, but now she was soft. Her lips twitched and as I bent down to examine the wound I had made she hand slowly made its way to her face where it brushed her ebony hair away.

I sighed and undid the top of a water bottle.

Pushing her body slightly upright, I placed it to her mouth. A few swigs later she hummed in unconscious thanks, so I gently placed her back. I sat down next her and decided to inspect my baby. She was a 7.62 bolt action rifle, all home made except the barrel, and she was my _baby_. She could hold three rounds, one extra in the camber, and could shoot near thousand yards. Her and I could take down a group of raiders quick as a bout fly. Her scope I found in a trash hemp and cleaned her to a nice shin, not the best but it works.

Seeing she was still out I decide to to take a look at her. Not goin' lie here; she was cuter then can be. Her hair was chopped shorter then mine, into a boyish style. The lower lip still shock ageist its thinner sister, once in a while she would gasp slightly. What she wore was odd though; red and brown sports gear from the per war days. A leather skirt and boots covered her legs and a linen scarf had fallen free in the scuffle. She didn't have much in the way of curves, lady or other wise, but when she rolled away from me I could see she did a lot of walking.

If I had to guess it was about two when she finally awoke. She jolted up and, after seeing me, dove for her sword. Which I could now see was nothing more then a lawn mower blade tapped together. She sprung to her feet and leveled the blade at me again, I simple rose my hands in defense.

"Would you like a bite to eat?" I offered.

She remind silent. Except her stomach, "fine. I will let you feed me, profligate."

I pulled a can of beans and a Nuka-Cola, I placed them in between us pulled my knife. She filched, but eased as I cut into the can. I handed it over to her and quickly eat more then half, she reluctantly gave it back. She cracked open the pop and down a slight gulp a good bit, but saved most of it for me.

As I eat our eyes never left one another. It was a stare off.

"So," I said as I washed my meal down with a swig of nuka, "whats your name?"

"What is it to _you_?" she questioned.

"I'd like to know who I shared my meal with, so?"

"Yours first," she demanded.

"Fine, fine; I'm Emmett."

"Sordida" she said simply.


End file.
